You Own Me (Owned 1)

I needed another drink after telling all that. I waved to the bartender for another round for all of us.

“Wow.” Lissie said.

“Shit,” Zoe said. “I had no idea.”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” I said. “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. That backfired,” I grimaced at Zoe, remembering her getting thrown against the wall. “I meant to come to you Zoe after I’d gotten away—”

“Stop. It’s okay.” Zoe patted my hand.

“But it was my fault that happened to you! You should have been my priority!” I exclaimed. I took a deep breath. “I . . . well, everything got so fucked with Vic and he said he had it covered and that you were safe. I don’t know. I was just selfish and preoccupied.”

“He did,” Zoe assured me, “or, I guess that was him. I woke up in a private hospital and I wasn’t even hurt. Just a little bruised. When I went to leave, I was told that all my bills had been taken care of.”

Private hospital? I guess being an assassin for the government has its perks.

Lissie slammed her glass on the table. “Will someone explain what the hell you two are talking about?”

“When Dean came for me, he got to Zoe first,” I whispered, ashamed.

Lissie gasped, clasping a hand to her mouth while simultaneously reaching for Zoe.

“I was perfectly fine, though,” Zoe said, calming Lissie. “He didn’t do anything to me.” Zoe turned back to face me. “He was after you, Nox. Jesus, the things he said he was going to do to you. I didn’t even check on you afterward. I was just so pissed that I woke up alone. I guess I took it out on you when you showed up at my door the other day, as if you’d just gotten back from a short vacation.”

“Things got really fucked,” I said, completing Zoe’s sentence.

“Yeah,” Zoe exhaled.

The three of us sat on our warped wooden bar stools staring at our empty or nearly empty drinks. I, for one, was wondering how things had gotten so screwed up. Time stretched on as we sat in silence, the melancholy rock music droning on around us.

We were three semi-young and relatively beautiful girls with more shit in their life than necessary or fair. But that was true of everyone, wasn’t it? That was the truth about life: it was just shit, and each of us was working to get the best sewage system.

That was a bad analogy, but then again, I’m a little drunk and more than a little depressed.

“Who wants to get really, really drunk?” Lissie asked.

Zoe and I both raised our hands.

I pulled out my credit card.

I stumbled back to Vic’s place, still uncomfortable with calling it home, absolutely shit-faced drunk. It was almost three in the morning. By the time Lissie and I called a cab, Zoe had passed out. It’s funny, she puts on such a tough-girl act, but she really is all nougat on the inside.

We got Zoe awake enough so she could help us help her up to her apartment. I said goodnight as Lissie half carried Zoe inside.

When I entered the penthouse, Vic was still awake and watching a movie on his laptop. The blue glow from the screen created peaks and valleys on his face. He looked gaunt and menacing, which was just the more hilarious because of the movie he was watching.

“I’m sorry, what is this?” I asked, gesturing to the movie Vic was watching. I walked over to him, careful of my movements. I was drunk but just drunk enough that I was aware of the fact. I wanted to appear sober, but I was pretty sure that was makin

g me look even drunker. Have you ever tried walking normally while shitfaced? You come off looking like a baby calf taking its first steps.

“I waited up for you. I was worried,” Vic said, standing. “You stopped returning my texts after two.”

I nodded and began to explain, enunciating my words with exaggerated care: “Zoe got really drunk and started challenging everyone in the bar to arm wrestling contests. When no one would do it, she got really upset and declared herself Master of Arms and ran out into the streets yelling. It was a little hectic.” I left out that she threw up in the street, which caused Lissie to vomit in empathy, and then I got sick from the smell, so soon we were all vomiting in the street like a couple of sorority girls at their first party. It was a gross and unnecessary detail, for sure.

“So, what’s this?” I said again. I gestured a little too enthusiastically at the laptop.

“You know what this is.” Vic waved dismissively at the screen. “So, is that all that happened tonight?” Vic stared at me.

Sometimes I wondered if he spent all of his off-time with a Ouija board. To be honest, arm wrestling and vomiting wasn’t all that happened. After we vomited up a couple hundred dollars’ worth of alcohol, we attracted the attention of some rent-a-cops. Not a big deal, right? Wrong.